


with the innocent eyes of a slaughtered lamb

by Missy



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Awkwardness, Crack, Humor, Multi, Music Creation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Songwriting, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan's well of songwriting ideas dries up abruptly.  Abigail, like any good producer, helps him suss out the source of his tension - which leads back to Pickles.  It's up to her to renew their friendship, unblock Nathan and solve her Pickles' unresolved attraction to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with the innocent eyes of a slaughtered lamb

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XV, Prompt: Metalocalypse, Abigail/Nathan/Pickles, inspiration.

And then, out of nowhere, the songs dry up.

Abigail’s run into this kind of problem with other artists. Long creative droughts were natural in long-running bands, and often cleared up within months. But Dethklok was special. The label wasn’t about to risk global economic destabilization again; they needed a product by Christmas. And Abigail promised – even in light of their recent kidnapping and the band’s triumphant concert – to deliver it.

There was only one question left: what should they do? Charles proposes a vacation, but whenever Dethklok goes on vacation together hordes of people die violently. The last concert was a miraculous exception to the rule, and so - for Nathan’s safety and for the good of the creative process - she suggests they have a ‘staycation’ at the Mordhaus. Toki takes this as a chance to reorganize his action figure collection, Skwisgaar bends to even more furious practicing, Pickles shrugs and chugs down another pint of whisky, and Nathan – bless him – tries to get romantic with her.

“I’m gonna write you a love song,” he tells her while they’re lying in bed one day. “The most metal love song of all time!” 

His first attempt includes lyrics that compare her “innocent” eyes to those of slaughtered lambs. It’s quite an experience, but it’s only a first draft.

Nathan works and reworks the lyrics, irritating everyone else in the band and making the heads of a few Klokateers explode in the process. Abigail tries to redirect the two least-agreeable parties - Murderface and Skwisgaar, naturally – to other outlets. She even suggests Murderface lie down a loop for a dance act on the Crystal Mountain label – that was another story and another disaster. He and Skwisgaar were conveniently off at the label’s headquarters doing that while Abigail has dinner with Charles, Pickles and Nathan. 

Nathan nervously tries to impress her by reenacting the history of metal with salt and pepper shakers. She plays along, interjecting an opinion whenever she meets with a familiar name.

And so does Pickles. “Fuck Ozzy! The dude never paid for drugs!”

“Ozzy is the voice of Charles’ generation!” Nathan shouts.

“Uhm….I’m going to take the rest of this rumaki and head home,” Charles says, standing up. “It’s been a pleasure, Abigail.”

The boys are still fighting when she gets back from escorting Charles away. “Ozzy makes Rockzo look like a Sunday school teacher!”

“Would a Sunday school teacher write Blizzard of Ozz?”

Abigail lifts a finger to her lips and releases a piercing whistle, making both men reach for their ears and shout. “Stop fighting. Now.”

There is a long, stiff moment of silence. Pickles excuses himself and returns with a bottle of vodka.

They pass around the glass, but the atmosphere remains ridiculously thick. She hears Pickles mumble something about Nathan being whipped, then look her up and down with a sense of regret. In one minute she’s figured out the center of the bitterness and regret and finds it all so utterly ridiculous that she stands up and says, “all right. Let’s take care of this.” She reaches for the hem of her dress and hikes it up.”

“Uhhh….” Nathan says, eyeing Pickles. 

“Holey cats,” blurts Pickles. 

“There’s only one way to settle this little ‘problem’ the two of you have. Nathan, you mentioned a couple of times that you want a three-way. Pickles, you’ve wanted to sleep with me for a year. Well, boys – here’s your chance.” She rests her hands on her hips and taps her toes when neither man moves.

Nathan bites his lip, then wonders, “can I uh, trade Pickles for a groupie?”

“No.”

“An ugly Kloketeer?”

“No sale,” she says.

“Okay. Abigail’s right,” Nathan says, standing up and doffing his t shirt.

“Whatta shock,” mutters Pickles.

“The only way to solve this is with the most metal. Threeway. Ever.” He grabbed Abigail’s hand and dragged her toward the bedroom. 

Pickles watches them go, then shrugged and follows them. Abigail can almost read his mind: this is his one shot to see her naked, and he’s not passing it up.

***

“This is totally gay,” Pickles mumbles, pausing as he rests within her body. Nathan’s ass is up and jammed into his nose as he drives his dick into Abigail’s mouth, and he grunts and holds a defensive hand between them.

“Gay or not, it’s the only change you’ll get with me,” she reminds him, and flexes around his cock. He groans and gets back to work, punching Nathan’s buttocks as he goes.

Nathan kicks at Pickles hips while staring down at Abigail with adoration in his expression. “Are you having a good time?” he asks calmly, as if he’s hosting a luau and she had just asked him for a purple geisha. 

“Tell Pickles to hold onto your hips.” Both men have studiously spent the entire encounter trying not to touch each other. Pickles hears her and scoffs.

She rolls her eyes and tries harder. The closer they get, the closer she gets - to speed herself along she take a hand off of Nate’s cock and reaches for her clit, but Pickles’ middle finger finds it and awkwardly jabs at it.

The sensations shooting through Abigail mix pleasure and pain into some sort of unholy fire in her body. She sucks harder on Nathan, bucks her hips at Pickles, and feels the telltale swelling of their bodies.

As she teeters on the edge, she looks up to see Nathan grab Pickles by a handful of dreads 

It almost take her off-rhythm and stops her orgasm, but then Pickles thumb scrapes her again ad she goes, quickly, almost painfully, over the edge. To their credit, she thinks, somewhere in the haze of her bliss, it’s the most metal French kiss in the history of awkward band threesomes.

When it’s over and she’s stopped coming, their voices enter her consciousness. Both boys have moved as far away from each other as they can physically get, but they’re still facing each other. “So uh….Ozzy had some good songs,” Pickles says.

“Yeah,” Nate agrees. 

Abigail drifts off to the sound of them attempting to out-awkward each other. 

 

*** 

(The next morning they compose a song together. “Isis” is dedicated to her. Nathan’s lyrics doesn’t make reference to entrails, blood or innocent lambs once. 

And Murderface’s bass is eventually mixed entirely out of the track).

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **Metalocalypse** , all of whom are the property of **Brendon Small**. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
